


polaroid

by gayprentiss



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Banter, F/F, M/M, Roommates to lovers, just fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprentiss/pseuds/gayprentiss
Summary: in which spencer reid is your cute roommate
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	polaroid

**Author's Note:**

> again, you can find this work on my wattpad @rosebudmotel or my tumblr @gayprentiss!

“spencer reid, i swear to god, if you don’t take out this trash like i asked you to  _ two  _ days ago, i might scream.”

“you’re screaming anyways, to be fair.” 

you let out a frustrated groan, shaking your head at him and stalking to your room. 

spencer was a great roommate, usually. he’d listed his guest room for rent years ago, and you, desperate for a space to call your own, had jumped. his apartment was nice, dark walls covered in organized clutter spencer had accumulated over the years. when you came to tour the space, you peered up at his walls. there were newspaper clippings, receipts, nightclub wristbands, polaroid photos, all organized into a neat grid. 

“okay, i’ll take the room,” you said, deciding that a man who was this meticulous  _ and  _ sentimental couldn’t possibly murder you in your sleep. you would’ve rented the room either way, honestly, the price of the place was too good to pass up. you figured that’s probably because not many people wanted to live with a random man, but you had chalked spencer up to be pretty much harmless. “under one condition,” you stated. 

spencer was taken aback by this, not really believing you were in the position to put stipulations onto your agreement. “what’s your condition?” he inquired, choosing his words carefully so as not to promise you anything. 

“i get to put some of my stuff up on the walls too.” 

this he could get behind. at least you weren’t asking to completely overhaul his interior design. in fact, you embraced it, and wanted to be involved. he liked that. his last roommate had been somewhat of a recluse, and as much as spencer was okay with not being bothered, the roommate’s presence made his apartment feel significantly less like home. 

but when you moved in, you never left him alone. spencer’s introverted nature means he should’ve been completely bothered by this. but you’re so warm, such a presence, that he embraced it. every time you begged him to watch a movie with you, go get dinner with you, or to just sit at the kitchen table with you while he did his paperwork, his heart stirred. he enjoyed living with you, and you him. except when he forgets to take out the trash. 

“y/n,” he whines, following you. spencer, in all of his softness, can’t handle when you’re upset with him. “i’m sorry i didn’t take out the trash,” he says, pushing your door open and flopping onto your bed next to you. 

you look up from your phone to glance at him. 

“i would love to get takeout tonight, but we can’t because there’s nowhere to throw the containers away,” you say dryly, turning back to your phone, and carding one hand through his hair. he makes a noise of dissent and sticks out his bottom lip. you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger. 

“well i could go take it out  _ now,  _ but you’re playing with my hair,” he says. you scratch at his scalp gently, then remove your hand. 

“go, then. i’ll order food. thai?” 

when he comes back, you’re sitting on the rug of the living room, flicking through your dvd collection. 

“wanna watch a movie?” you ask. “i’m picking.” 

he shakes his head with a laugh. “i can’t remember the last time i picked, y/n.”

“yeah, you like boring movies.” you look up at him, and he gives you a pleading look. “fine. you can pick.” 

he ends up picking some foreign movie you have to rent online. he promises profusely that he’ll translate in your ear the whole time, and that’s enough to sell you. when your food arrives, you place his meal on a plate like he likes it, and opt to eat yours out of the styrofoam box. you curl up against his side, and he wraps his arm around you. 

“thanks for taking out the trash, finally,” you murmur. he shushes you. god forbid you interrupt his movie.

he begins to whisper translations to you, and you’re immediately tense. you’re overwhelmed. his arm is around you, his lips brushing against your ear, his hand in your hair. and spencer’s just your roommate, you know this. but that doesn’t mean he’s not _ attractive.  _ anyone with eyes could see that. you just had to keep that to yourself, because you lived together and it would be weird if he ever found out you had a tiny crush on him. 

okay, a big crush on him. 

you discovered your feelings for spencer a few months ago when the two of you had spent the night at a hotel for the weekend, simply because spencer was off of work and you wanted to lounge by the pool with him. both of you needed to relax, and a mini-vacation had been perfect. there was only one bed in the room, because you booked the smallest (and cheapest) room possible, but neither of you were phased. you’d spent the night in each other’s beds multiple times before, usually after a particularly long, deep conversation or a movie night. 

“do you think god exists?” you asked, lying in bed with him. 

“oh my god, go to sleep, y/n,” spencer groaned. you pouted, turning away from him and hiking the blanket up to your chin. 

a beat passes. 

“do you want to go explore?” you asked. there was always something exciting about finding a weird room in a hotel you’d never been to before. 

spencer let out a heavy sigh and sat up, flicking the lamp on. “no, y/n.” you knew he was irritated with you. it was 3 am, but you just couldn’t sleep. his dark circles were pronounced, his shoulders tense. “how can i help you right now?” he asked. 

“you don’t want to help me, you just want to go to sleep,” you said petulantly, back still turned to him.

“if i help you, i can fall asleep, because you won’t be bothering me with all your questions,” he replied, voice low and gravelly. 

“no, turn the lights off.” 

“you’re so dramatic.” 

“leave me alone, i’m trying to sleep, spencer.” 

spencer was too tired to argue with you, so he turned off the light and laid back down, desperate for sleep. it took all of two minutes for you to open your mouth again. 

“spencer?” 

he didn’t answer, but you knew he was awake from the pattern of his breathing.

“spencer,” you said again, dragging out the word in a sing-songy tone and flipping to face him. 

he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at you. “shut up and go to sleep,” he said, and punctuated his sentence with a firm kiss to your lips. you were stunned into silence by the action. satisfied, spencer turned away from you and promptly fell asleep. you didn’t say another word until morning, and even then, neither one of you brought it up, falling back into your normal relationship with ease. 

as you’re watching spencer’s russian movie, he can tell you’re on edge. he intentionally brushes his lips against your earlobe just to watch you squirm. didn’t you know he’s a profiler? he’s had you figured out for years. he knows all your tells. he knows that you’re head-over-heels for him. he likes this, because he feels the same way. spencer takes pleasure in bothering you simply because it gives him power that he doesn’t generally have with you. you’re so headstrong, so sure of yourself. but when his breath is fanning over your neck, he’s in control. 

you pull away from his grasp suddenly, accidentally flinging a bit of pad thai across the couch. he chuckles, and you narrow your eyes at him at the sound. “you’re doing this on purpose!” 

“doing  _ what  _ on purpose?” he says coyly. 

“getting me all hot and bothered!”

“is that what’s happening?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice. he sets his plate down on the coffee table, but you hold your takeout container to your chest as if it creates a barrier between you and him. your eyes are wide, and again, you’re surprised into silence. 

“when are you gonna admit it, y/n?” he asks. if this were a normal conversation between the two of you, you would ask him  _ “admit what,”  _ but you knew what he was talking about.

“you’re mean,” you say simply, placing your meal down and crawling over to him. “you win. kiss me now.” 

he cups your face gently and pulls you into a deep kiss. there’s no hesitation before you’re kissing him back, moving closer to straddle his waist. he moans softly into your mouth, and you take his parted lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss. your hands find their way into his hair, tugging softly. for all of his cockiness earlier, you’re in control now. he’s putty in your hands. his hands reach the hem of your shirt, and he pulls away to ask you for permission.

“wait!” you exclaim. you clamber out of his lap, grabbing his polaroid camera off of the shelf where he keeps it. he gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head. “smile, spence,” you sing. he grins. he looks happy. his lips are swollen, you note, but you think only you would notice. his eyes are honey colored, illuminated by the forgotten tv playing across from him. you snap the picture, and pin it to the wall. 


End file.
